Anesthesia
by Vampire Ifurita
Summary: It wasn’t love. That was the first thing he always told himself when he woke up in the morning: it wasn’t love. SasuGaa, onesided GaaNaru


If: This is just a drabble I finished to try and get the creative juices flowing, and to try a twisted take on GaaSasu... I'm not sure how good it is...

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It wasn't love. That was the first thing he always told himself when he woke up in the morning: it wasn't love. It wasn't affection, it was the one thing he hated most in the world, and yet it was the one thing that he could no longer live without. Death had taken everything from him, and now he clung like the pathetic fool that he was to any inkling of that former time. The time before all the death, before the world ended.

He was using him. He didn't love the man he slept with every night, who was always beside him and who always spoke those three words to him every night. It was a desperate act of clinging to a past long gone. He didn't even like the man who was now his lover, who had been his lover for many years now. In fact, he loathed him. The one person he wished to kill the most was the one that he couldn't bring himself to kill and he was the person with whom he spent his nights with. It was tearing him apart, these conflicting emotions, the lust for this man's blood and the need to be close to him.

Love was the word, the very emotion that had always cursed his life. That one emotion had made him into a beast, no better than the monster he had housed, and yet it was also the emotion that had changed him into the man he had become, the leader of his people who adored him. It was this same emotion that tortured him even now. The one he loved was dead, and yet he clung to his killer simply because he was the last link to the one he had loved with all his heart.

Gone were the sunny smiles, the carefree attitude, and the carelessly given love. In its place was the Avenger. All things bright had become twisted in this world of no hope. The one person who had had the capability to change and soften even the hardest of hearts had been snuffed out by the very person he had been trying to save.

Sitting up each morning, waking from nightmares of sun and smiles and eyes of the bluest clearest skies, was the hardest thing to do. Every morning was a struggle to face. He would look at his black walls, the drawn curtains and wonder why he was alive. Each day began with the same ritual. He would look at the man sleeping peacefully at his side and wonder if this was the day that one of them would die at the hands of the other. Black eyes would open and regard him with an air of superiority that only the man beside him could posses and then slowly close, as if to say 'you will never kill me.' And he would turn his back to him.

Guilt would always wash over him, guilt for being too weak to fade away again, for being unable to push away the person who had hurt him most. He would scramble up from the bed and rush into the bathroom. Splashing cold water over his face only served to make him cold. He would feel numb to the world and then _he_ would come in and run a soothing hand over his back. He didn't want to feel comforted, but he found himself relaxing under then other man's touch even as he would start to cry.

It was the same thing every day.

After a moment of weakness he would pull himself back together. He would place the shattered remains of his heart back into the steel box he had let them escape from for the smallest of moments. The blank emotionless mask he always wore would be pulled on and he would roughly shove the hands on his shoulders off. With a huff he would exit the bathroom and pull out his clothes for the day.

The vestments of his station would feel extra heavy on his shoulders as if their weight were enhanced by his own burdens. Every day he could feel his robes grow heavier. He knew, one day he would crumble under the strain. One man could only bear so much before he would be crushed under the burden of his sins.

Leaving his apartment without so much as a goodbye or even a glance backwards, he would walk to his office. His villagers would bow respectfully and greet him cordially, their unconditional love almost too much for him to bear. He would nod to them in greeting as he passed on his way. The building would always loom before him. The tall structure seeming to mock his weakness with its sturdy structure. If only he could be as strong as he once was, if only he hadn't been touched by an angel.

The day would pass quickly enough, and through the monotony he could almost forget what had happened. At the end of the day though, he would have to go back to his apartment. At the end of the day he would still feel alone and would remember who was waiting for his return. He would sigh and get up, heading for the door. He ignored his siblings' sad and worried faces as he walked out of the building and missed the depressed eyes of his villagers as he wandered down the streets. Pausing outside of the apartment building he looked up at the window to his room. The light was on, just like it always was. Staying where he was he decided to break away from the monotony that was his life. He watched the window with interest as the sky darkened and the sun fell below the horizon.

What was it that kept him alive? What was it that made him come back here every day to the man he so disliked? He had never wanted to question himself over what had happened to himself, but suddenly he was very interested in questioning what had become of him.

The first question had an automatic answer: his village. He was alive because his village needed him, but did they really? He could find a replacement if he so wanted, but he didn't. Was it that he didn't want to die, or was it that he couldn't? Giving it a moments thought he knew that the first option wasn't true. He desperately wanted to die. He wanted to be free of this horrid existence that had once been his life. But why couldn't he die? Looking up at the brightly shining window gave him his answer. _That man_ would never let him die, too far gone with his own obsession. He was stuck in this existence because the Uchiha wanted him to be his own reason for existing. He existed for the Uchiha. But was it because of the Uchiha that he kept coming back?

No. Looking up at the dark sky he could almost swear a star twinkled out of existence before his very eyes. He came back because he owed it to the one he loved. He owed it to Naruto. The blond had clearly loved the Uchiha, and not himself, and it had gotten him killed. All Naruto had wanted was for the Uchiha to live and be happy. If sacrificing whatever he was to be with the Uchiha made the Uchiha happy, then Naruto would be happy, wherever he was.

Gaara walked inside the building when he started to see a shadow pacing before the window. Sighing, he made his way upstairs. The Uchiha would not be happy about him breaking their routine, but he thought that he finally understood a little better why he was letting himself do this preposterous thing.

Opening the door revealed a pacing Uchiha. Silently taking off his shoes and closing the door behind himself he watched the other man. Sasuke was not the man he used to be. Nowhere was the child of old that had been a friend to the Kyuubi vessel, long gone was the teen with vengeance in his eyes, all that was left was a shell of a man. Power still radiated from him, and he was still as broody as ever, but something had stopped him from being as magnetic a person. There would be no fan club of adoring fan girls, no comrades or friends, only Gaara. In a moment of rare feeling, Gaara suddenly felt sorry for the man. Sasuke had to have goals in life, had to have things to aspire to. He needed an obsession. It took him a moment, but he realized that in his own way, Sasuke's obsession with him was probably the healthiest obsession he'd had. At least he wasn't trying to kill him.

"… Taidaima…" Gaara spoke. The Uchiha whirled to face him, red eyes swirling maliciously.

"… Okaeri…" the Uchiha spoke in return and suddenly it was as if nothing was different. Gaara walked up to the Uchiha and gave him a kiss on the cheek and the Uchiha gave him one in return.

It wasn't a relationship of love, it wasn't one of mutual desire, it was a relationship of need. Sasuke needed a reason to live, someone to obsess over and strive to beat. Gaara needed to make Naruto happy through making Sasuke happy. In a twisted way they needed each other to live, but that didn't mean it would stay this way. Some day Sasuke would challenge Gaara and win. Gaara would die and Sasuke would have to find someone new to pursue. Maybe Gaara would give up and leave causing them both to die. Right now though, there was life, but what kind of life were they leading?

_Longing for the past but dreading the future  
If not being used, well then you're a user and a loser_

_-Type O Negative_


End file.
